Wasting Away
by fandombloggingaddict
Summary: A man abducts Hawkeye and makes him pay for some crime he feels the surgeon has committed against him. Gee, does he pay. - Graphic whump, emotional and not too OOC. Later features other members of the camp as they try to save him. High hurt to comfort ratio, but the psychology at play makes this one really interesting. Please review!
1. Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself

**A/N: Hey guys. This is a very dark, angsty, and entirely pain-centric fic about Hawk Pierce. It is a bit shallow, perhaps, lingering on the hurt side if hurt/comfort, but I put a lot of work into the characterization and how to make the plot and setting as realistic as possible while writing such a relentless story. I had no intention to post this, but I aim to please. I'd love to see some reviews, but plain ol' views are nice too. Tell me what I can work on, make more believable, what you'd like to see in a story - heck, let me in on your personal taste so I can write what ya want to read! I have my plan for this story all set, but I'm always up for suggestions.**

 **Enjoy.**

Hawkeye jolted awake, groggy and confused. He was waking up... but upright. Someone laid their hand on his thigh when he groaned. Strangely, instead of his typical reaction of a flirtatious smile or a chuckle, his reaction was instinctive. He pulled away slightly, opening his eyes warily. There was a man standing in front of him, watching him. Hawkeye narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat.

"What happened? Where am I?"

"You don't remember?" The man smiled. It took a minute for the grin to register as menacing rather than friendly.

Hawkeye looked around. He was hanging from the ceiling by his wrists in chains, centered in a cement room. He was shirtless and barefoot, his feet on the ground but just enough that he couldn't quite stand, just touch. He shivered when the man ran his hand up his side.

"No, I don't."

The guy huffed and placed his hand on the hanging man's chest, gently touching it. Pierce hissed and pulled away. He looked down to see that his chest was so severely bruised that it was more black and blue - and yellow, green, red, and purple - than he thought possible without being run over by a tank. Now that he thought about it, the pain made his stomach churn violently and he groaned. His head was practically splitting as well.

"Yes, well, I figured that beating would have some ramifications."

"Beating?"

"You thought it was a good idea to fight against me. I didn't even have to pull my gun. You went down hard, and all the while bitching about the violation of the Geneva Convention. Remember that?"

Hawkeye shook his head and inhaled sharply as the man punched him in the gut. Another hit to his chest made him cry out. Definitely some broken ribs.

"I don't care if you remember, so long as you understand your position here. You are mine. You will do as I say, when I say it, and without attitude. Step out of line and you will be punished. Do you understand?"

Hawkeye pulled himself up a bit before answering, "I don't know why you'd think a surgeon would so easily submit. If you wanted someone to follow your orders, you should have kidnapped a soldier."

The man growled and punched him in the chest again. And again. He continued to beat the doctor until Pierce yelled again. The man reached up and unlocked his restraints. Pierce fell to the ground with a yelp. The man kicked him, over and over again. Hawkeye cried out as more of his ribs were broken. Finally, when he thought he was about to pass out, it stopped. He groaned and shivered, cold on the hard concrete floor. The man grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to meet his eyes. Hawkeye's searching eyes, looking for a reason for this violence, met the eyes of a man who... who enjoyed this. The man was enraged and belligerent, but amused at the same time.

"Will you obey?"

"Ask my CO. Never."


	2. A Toast

Hawkeye had been left alone, restrained, for three days. He shifted on the ground, trying to escape the discomfort of having his hands cuffed behind him. When the man returned, Pierce hissed at the light and used his feet to push himself back a few inches. The man walked in slowly and stood above him as Pierce panted, eyes red from lack of sleep and hydration.

"How was your time off, doc?"

Hawkeye's breath hitched when he stepped on his chest, the heavy boot pinning him down. The bruises and his snapped ribs protested at the pressure.

"I said, how was it?"

Pierce cringed when the boot pushed down an inch, trying not to cry out.

"N-not fun. I still don't know why-"

The man applied most of his weight to crushing the man beneath his boot, earning a bellow of agony.

"Yours is not the place to question why, Doctor. You are to behave. Will you obey?"

Pierce panted and writhed, but clenched his jaw in defiance. "No."

The man stepped off and walked out, returning in seconds. He had a bottle of vodka in one hand and a can of beer in the other. He set them on the ground next to Hawkeye and straddled his waist.

"I know you like to drink, doc, and you'd die of dehydration otherwise, so I'll do you a favor." He opened the can of beer and brought it to Pierce's lips, using his other hand to force his prisoner's head up and keep it in place. Pierce opened his mouth, but once the man began pouring, he wouldn't stop. Hawkeye panicked when he couldn't breathe, but he couldn't move, either. He stopped drinking and breathed through his nose, but the man jolted him and he finished the can. The man set that down and took up the bottle. Hawkeye shook his head. The man ignored him, this time using his free hand to hold his nose with his head held to the ground, and began pouring the harsh liquor down his throat. Pierce choked, but the vodka was shoved between his teeth and he had no choice but to swallow it. Half of the bottle was gone and already he was dizzy and past nauseous. By the end of the bottle, as he could breathe again, he just choked and coughed. He was soaked from the struggling, but he'd taken it all. The man slapped him to get his attention, but Pierce just rolled his head to the other side. He was still wheezing.

"See you in your nightmares, doc."

When Hawkeye looked up with glazed eyes, the man was gone and the door bolted shut again. The pain quieted down, only to be replaced with the worst motion-sickness he'd ever felt lying still. That night, he threw up everything, which made the next three days without food infinitely worse.


	3. Given and Taken

"Rise and shine, pet, daddy's home." The man called as he entered the cell. Hawkeye lay in the fetal position, surrounded by and lying in the shit, piss, and vomit he'd produced for the past week. He shuddered when the man stormed in. He grabbed Pierce by the hair and dragged him out and down a hall, concrete like the room, all the way to a room with a rusty spigot in the wall. The man turned the handle and forced the filthy man under the cold water. Hawkeye cringed but didn't fight, glad to be clean. He scrubbed himself slowly and the icy water took care of the filth. The water was turned off and he was taken to a new room, exactly like the old one, but clean.

"Do you give up yet?"

Pierce just lay there, trying not to move from where he'd been dumped. His body was screaming at him for some reprieve. His stomach growled loudly and was churning at the thought of another beating. When he took too long to answer, the man kicked him in the gut. At the further lack of response, he kicked again and continued until Pierce tried to pull himself away rather than lie there. The man stopped and left, returning once again with liquor, this time two bottles of scotch. He straddled the struggling man beneath him and set them down. Hawkeye fought weakly, but the man just pinned his arms, cuffed them behind his back with some maneuvering, and opened the bottles. He brought the first to Hawkeye's mouth, which stayed stubbornly shut. The man held his nose until Hawkeye gasped, then shoved the neck of the bottle between his teeth. Pierce bucked as much as he could while the harsh liquid down his throat. He choked and spluttered. Before the bottle was done, his vision got blurry. He couldn't breathe, and his body couldn't take much more. Finally it was gone, and he felt a warm buzz, but already the other bottle was at his lips. The man poured the liquor down his throat, smirking as the pinned man's struggling died down slowly. The second bottle was empty and Pierce could only cough violently as the man continued to hold the bottle. When Hawkeye could breathe again, he dazedly looked up to see the bottle coming down on him. It met his shoulder and he cried out. The man continued to beat him with the thick glass bottle, laughing as Pierce began to cry from the sheer pain and distress, drunk beyond measure.

The beating continued for a few minutes until Pierce sobbed, "Stop-p, no more." He shuddered with pain and exhaustion when a final blow for good measure met his leg. The bottle was dropped and the man straddled him again, leaning down to meet his prisoner's red eyes.

"Will you obey?"

Hawkeye started to cry again. "I-I can't, please, I can't do it, I'm s-sorry..."

The man clicked his tongue sympathetically and ran a hand through the desperate man's dark hair. "Shh, shh, I know. It's hard for you."

Hawkeye leaned into his touch, his stuttering and panicked breathing leveling out. He closed his eyes.

"That's why-" He punched him in the jaw, "I'll have-" punch, "to beat-" hit, "that" right hook, "OUT of you!" Another beating session ensued, and by the time he was done with the intoxicated man, Pierce was spasming and coughing up blood. The man stepped back and smiled down on his work.

"You will obey, doc, you just have to give in to the pain."

He left.


	4. Let's Make a Deal

This time he came back the next day, only a few hours later. Pierce hadn't made a mess, he'd even held his liquor, so the man rewarded him by leaving him sober for this beating. Hawkeye's head was splitting from the hangover, and he yelled when his head was smashed into the wall, but the man only punished him with another broken rib for yelling. By the time the man was leaving, Hawkeye was about to throw up.

"P-please..." He called weakly.

The man paused and turned around. "What?"

"May I... will you take me to the bathroom?" He trembled when the man approached him again, knowing he deserved whatever he got for even asking. The man only leaned down and grabbed his chin, meeting his watery eyes.

"Now that's what I call a well-trained mutt." He sneered. "What will you do for it?"

Hawkeye thought. "I-I'll take another beating, after."

The man scoffed and stood, kicking and pummeling him, laughing as the broken man cried out in agony and confusion. This was a long one. By the end of it, Pierce couldn't open his eyes without seeing double. His captor leaned down and grabbed his throat threateningly.

"I will beat you whenever I want. Your body is mine. Got that?"

Pierce nodded shakily and opened his eyes, trying to stabilize himself. "I'm s-sorry."

"No more sniveling, I want to know what this is worth to you."

Pierce thought about what he could possibly do.

"I-I don't know."

"For a trip to the head, a meal, and a chance to call your unit to say goodbye, what would you do?"

Hawkeye's eyes widened and he thought hard. What did he have that hadn't been taken from him?

"I-I can't-"

The man sighed and wrapped his hands around the stymied man's throat, throttling him. Hawkeye choked and writhed, but there was no way to breathe or fight back. His captor continued to strangle him, disgruntled. As Pierce's vision grayed at the edges and he was passing out, the man leaned in to whisper hauntingly, "You should have obeyed from the start, pet."


	5. Routine

Hawkeye came to several hours later when the man woke him with a kick to the head. Pierce gasped and looked up to see him standing over him with more liquor. The bruised man began to hyperventilate as he was straddled and the first bottle was opened. He couldn't even move against it, being so weak and in pain. He was force-fed the alcohol again, his jaw being held open by the unforgiving hand of his torturer. When he'd choked down the last of it, he was beaten. This time, his abuser had brought a bat.


	6. Surrender

Hawkeye was going to die. Without food, he was wasting away. He was so thin now that he could see which ribs were broken. It had been nearly three weeks and he was starting to lose it. The man no longer made offers, he just got him too drunk to think and beat him senseless. Pierce was no longer human, just a cowering, broken man. He didn't speak anymore, since it really only got him beaten. He could only choke out bile now, and he'd only gotten one glass of water when his captor had seen him start to become delirious.

When the man walked into the cell today, Hawkeye shuddered.

"Oh, what is it, doc? Too much pain?"

Pierce nodded shakily, huddled up in the far corner.

"Well, you should've thought of that before you decided to defy me." He strode toward his victim and chuckled. "Think if I beat you around the head enough, you'll lose your vision? Maybe if I do this." He grabbed Hawkeye's head and smashed it into the wall behind him. The shattered man cried out as it made a sickening cracking sound and the blood ran down his neck.

"No, you still look at me this those big sad eyes. Pity." He continued to smash Pierce's head into the wall until the doctor was knocked unconscious.

"Oh, no, you're not getting off that easy." He wrapped his hand around the still man's black and blue neck, cutting off his air. After a few seconds, Pierce shifted, then jolted awake, his hands grabbing at those strangling him. He couldn't breathe enough to beg for his life, so he just mouthed, "Please."

The man removed his grip and smiled as his captive heaved. Once Pierce's hyperventilating died down to wheezing, he shifted slightly, wincing at the movement of his broken arm.

"P-please," he whimpered, tear tracks down his dirty face making it a pitiful sight. "I'll obey, I'll behave."

The man stood, eyebrows raised. "You will - you surrender?"

"Y-yes," Hawkeye sobbed.

The man smiled and ran a hand through Pierce's hair, almost petting him. Hawkeye leaned into the touch, unused to a foreign hand being so gentle, watching the man in trepidation.

"Good choice."

The soft touch became a sharp grip as the man grabbed his hair and dragged him to the center of the room. Hawkeye laid there, limp with defeat, as his captor brought out the liquor. The usual rough routine to force it down his throat ensued, and when the man stood above him once more, Hawkeye was already intoxicated.

"W-why?"

"This is for taking so long to surrender. It was never your decision to make. You should have snapped sooner if you wanted to make it out in one piece." He left and returned a few seconds later with something that made Hawkeye tremble.

A whip.

He was forced to his knees. Hawkeye dared not move, leaning forward with his palms on the ground and staying there. His back was bare and exposed, bruised but not nearly as much as his chest. Virtually unmarked.

The first crack of the whip would change that forever. He cried out as the leather struck the tender skin. After several hits, the leather began to cut into the flesh. Pierce yelled as there was a quick succession of lashes that sliced into his back sharply. There were rugged shallow tears in his back, torn more with the following lashes. A dozen passed before Hawkeye screamed. Another ten before he screamed again, the cry so loud and raw that his voice cracked and he only grunted for the next few hits. Pierce's broken arm gave out, leaving him to fall forward before the lashes stopped. Losing his angle, the man dropped the whip and kicked his captive onto his side. Hawkeye shuddered and spasmed.

"You ready to obey, doc? This is your last chance."

Pierce licked his bruised lips and nodded.

"Good." The man left again, returning with a loaf of bread instead of the whip. He tossed it to the bleeding heap of a person that lay shuddering on the floor, leaving him for now.

Pierce dragged himself to the bread. It was stale and cool, but he practically tore into it. He hadn't eaten in weeks. He shouldn't be alive. His stomach churned uneasily, but he refused to let himself throw up. He couldn't know when he would be given more food.

That night, his nightmares had him screaming more than the new gashes in his body.


	7. Put in the Hours, Put in the Call

Hawkeye was jolted awake when a hand fisted in his hair and he was dragged out of the room into the bright hallway. He yelped at each tug, but finally they made it to the next room. The guy let him hit the floor next to a gurney. He pulled himself up, aching and bleeding again, to see someone strapped to the table. The restrained patient was bleeding from several apparent stab wounds to the abdomen. He was bruised and unconscious as well.

"I want you to patch him up within an hour. Nothing fancy, just enough that he can move. You haven't earned the privilege of using a scalpel, but I have some thread, a needle, gauze, and ethanol."

Pierce succeeded in remaining upright, but he couldn't keep his hoarse voice from wavering. "To perform an operation, everything has to be as sterile as possible."

The man stormed up to him and grabbed his throat threateningly. "I told you what you're given, now make do or go back to being my favorite pastime! Now, work." He shoved the surgeon away and stood back to supervise the procedure. Hawkeye turned around and stepped up to the table. At the edge lay the tools as listed. A shaky hand reached out to the rubbing alcohol first, which he liberally doused his hands with, sanitizing them, and ignoring the few bones that were healing from being broken on one of his captor's bad days. He sterilized the thread and needle before setting to work to clean the wound. He dabbed it with alcohol-soaked gauze, but it was a poor excuse for a cleanup. He then took up his final tools and slowly stitched up the lacerations. He had two more cuts to sew up when the body moved. Hawkeye recoiled as the patient bucked, coming awake in pain and restraints.

"No, stop it, get offa me!" The bleeding man demanded. He tried to pull away from the surgeon but froze when he saw the man behind him. "No, no no no... no!" He gasped for breath as he panicked, his eyes wide. "No, pl-"

The man had already knocked him out with a punch to the head.

When Pierce looked at him with horrified confusion, the man only chuckled, "Not a first-time customer." He bristled when the doctor remained still. "Work, damn it!"

Hawkeye finished the stitches, wrapped the area in gauze, and reset the tools before turning around anxiously. He was certain of the quality of his work, but he had no idea what this meant for him. That man had had scars that looked like they came from a terrifying array of weapons, and he was clearly a former captive of this man. What did that mean that he had in store for Pierce? And if he wasn't a 'first-time customer'... who knew when this hell would end, and if ever for good.

The man saw his fear and laughed, clapping him on the back forcefully. Hawkeye stumbled forward and groaned at the ignition of scalding pain down his back.

"Nicely done, doc. Onto the next one."

"N-next one?"

"Oh, yes, you work for me now, and this is where I want you. Don't worry, you've operated at the front lines, this shouldn't be too hard. Although, for every blunder you make here, you get a beating. Not that big of a difference."

After the man's mockery, Hawkeye risked a question. "Can I call my unit?"

The man made a sarcastically sympathetic face. "Oh, you miss your friends? Fine, but I'll prime you first. Can't have you coming up with something smart."

With that, he grabbed the thin man my the unbroken arm and swung him toward the door. Pierce tripped to it, leaning in the doorway to be laughed at by his captor. He was shoved out and down the hall, but he took this opportunity to appreciate his first time being able to walk from a room rather than be dragged. He was led to his cell and kicked inside, where he fell to his knees. The man stepped to the side of the doorway to grab something before he entered. Several things.

No.

Bottles of liquor and a bat.

The man raised his eyebrows as his prisoner tried to drag himself away, accidentally letting slip a whimper.

"Oh, you'll be in perfect condition to talk to your buddies. Can't put on a farce for them, they should know what you're really like: a pitiful, broken drunk."

He straddled the fragile doctor and opened the bottles. Hawkeye was practically vibrating, but far too weak and broken in to fight back. Whether or not Pierce could resist the force-feeding, his torturer still held his nose and shoved it into his mouth, not allowing him to breathe until he was done. He choked down the harsh liquor before the second bottle replaced the first. This time he had no breath before the bottle was poured, and started to buck slightly and choke violently. The man held fast, forcing him to swallow it all anyway. When it was taken away, Pierce was hacking away roughly, gasping desperately. The man stood over the man whose mind was quickly growing fuzzy and confusing. His eyes muddily traversed the room before landing on the weapon his captor now held. After a minute, even through his intoxicated state, he was still afraid of the pain to come. That bat met his flesh, bruising it darker than older markings had left it, and snapping some of his bones. The doctor screamed and curled up and tried to crawl away, but every time he was cut down. After twenty minutes, he lay twitching on the ground, unable to move without tears springing up in his eyes. The man brought a walkie-talkie to him and set it down next to him. There was a faint voice coming from it. When Hawkeye inched forward to lean into it to use the device, he began crying immediately at the voice he heard.

"Hello, receiver... MASH 4077th... waiting for... This is the MASH 4... 7th..." Radar's voice crackled before the wavelength settled, probably thanks to the kid's tinkering. "Hello, this is Radar O'Reilly, who's calling?"

Pierce closed his eyes in pain.

"R-radar... R-... Radar, it's m-me... i-it's Hawkeye."

Radar yelled loudly, startling him, but it was good. Happy.

"HEY! Hey, Hawkeye! Man, we've been looking for you for months! Gee, everyone thought you were dead! I didn't, but nobody listens to me... oh, BJ's awful down... Hawk, where you been?"

Pierce's brows furrowed as he struggled to form a sentence. "I-I'm... he, he took..." The usually eloquent doctor growled. "The man... I'm here, been here so long... Radar, why didn't you..."

"Hawk, what's wrong? Are you hurt? I can't understand you."

"Am, I tried, but it wasn't enough... I'm being punished."

"Where are you?"

"Dunno. Jail. Hell. Meatball surgery. Same thing." His thoughts were more choppy now.

Radar paused. "Is someone there with you?"

Pierce looked up at the man watching him. "Yeah... hurts me, Rade, h-help, I can't... I can't think."

"Hawkeye, I need you to tell me where you are."

The man grabbed the walkie-talkie and growled into it, "That's quite enough. He's said his goodbyes. Don't waste your time on him, he is mine now."

With that, the call was ended. A second late, Pierce whispered brokenly, "Radar..."

The man kicked him in the chest and knelt to see his face as the frail man coughed. "You're never going to see them again. You'll break and die before they find you."

Hawkeye closed his eyes and waited for him to leave. A minute later, the door slammed shut. He jumped and opened his eyes to the empty cell.

"I know."


	8. To Be or Not to Be

The man didn't return by the time he woke up the next day, so Pierce decided to take inventory of his injuries. He blanched when he realized the extent of the damage, now that he wasn't too exhausted to deal with it.

He had several broken ribs, a broken arm, broken fingers, a twisted wrist, a reset dislocated shoulder, a possible broken ankle, and a concussion. His back has a series of gashes that could too easily become infected, and he didn't want to consider the possible brain damage from being hit in the head so much. He was still so underfed that he couldn't move without assistance, which just got him beaten more when he leaned on the man leading him.

Just testing all of his injuries to examine their severity left him light-headed and nauseous. An hour later, when his captor walked in, he didn't get up on command. The man leaned down and forced his head up.

Pierce's head rolled back slightly and his eyes were glazed over.

The man snorted, left him, and returned with two loaves of bread. Hawkeye eyed them but didn't move, waiting for his captor to speak.

"You're wasting away, doc. Eat."

Hawkeye glanced up at him and shook his head.

The man bristled. "What?"

"Why? What do I have to keep my strength up for? So you can twist me into a tool for sadistic surgery, then kill me?"

His torturer cornered him. "You'll do what I say because you surrendered to me."

"But, what does that mean? I gave up, but nothing changed. There's nothing here for me to live for."

Those calloused hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him to the center of the room. The man retrieved the whip and ordered Pierce to get into position. He did, exhausted. At the first lash, he screamed. He made it to the twenty-sixth lash before passing out, but he was just awoken by suffocation again. Ten more lashes and he was out again, his voice long gone. After being strangled and jolting awake the next time, he could barely hold himself up. Two lashes in and he collapsed, tears falling silently as he struggled to breathe.

"Get back into position."

"I c-can't."

The lash he received then caught him off-guard, but all he could do was grunt loudly, unable to scream without further tearing his throat.

"You are to do what I say until you drop dead. There is no 'I can't', because the only time you can't is when you're dead. Get up. NOW."

Pierce slowly lifted himself, painstakingly. When he made it, he was struck again, but he held.

"If you fall again before I'm through, you'll get another dozen, conscious or not." He received ten more lashes. The leather whip fell to the ground with a thud, drenched in blood. Pierce was shaking so severely that his entire frame was moving. The man admired the shredded span of his captive's back, but with the lanky man unable to obey much longer, he sighed and told him that he may relax. Hawkeye fell to the ground, panting and sobbing. His back was so shredded that it looked like a beast had clawed away at it like a mutt behind a door.

"Fifty lashes for disobeying. Every time."

Hawkeye was nearly unconscious. "P-please... may I..."

"No," The man sighed, "I don't think you get it. You don't get to escape, even in your mind. No sleep tonight. I'll be watching you. Remember, 50 lashes."

He left Hawkeye to lie in overwhelming agony, regret, and exhaustion.

At least he had the bread.


	9. Contact and Consequences

Doing as he was told, Hawkeye hadn't slept. His eyes were bloodshot when his captor returned, and he looked weak and sickly as ever, but he had a full stomach. It hadn't taken much, but he wasn't starving for now.

He took it as a good sign. This man was willing to shatter him mentally and physically, but he didn't want him to die. That meant something.

At this point, it was a curse rather than a blessing, but he'd take it as a sign of whatever it meant.

His thoughts weren't too complex as of late, so he left that train of thought at that vague conclusion.

The man was angry again. Pierce was numb.

"Your little friend is smarter than I thought. He traced my signal and found a way to contact me. He's on the line and demanding to speak to you. I think we should oblige."

Pierce hardly reacted. He knew that whatever the man had in store for him meant pain, and this would be no different.

He lifted the walkie-talkie he was holding and held the PTT button.

"Yeah, MASH 4077th?"

"Yes, we're here. Now where is our man?"

"Ah, Colonel Potter. See, I'm not very happy that your man tracked down my line. I think you need a very clear message regarding your approach in this matter."

"Listen, son, I hope for your sake that my man is in pristine condition."

"Oh," The man laughed, "he's in great condition. He can even stand! Well, with help. At least he can still use his legs; call it my little gift."

Potter was livid. "For every mark on that boy's body, I'll break one of your bones!"

"Well, Colonel, I'm afraid you'll run out of bones. He's a work of art. I'm sorry you can't see it, but perhaps you'd like to hear?"

"Don't do anything rash now…"

The man just smirked and then held the PTT button with one hand, lifting the whip he'd been holding with the other.

"Get into position."

Hawkeye obeyed mechanically. The whip came down and he grunted. Another lash earned another grunt. For each hit he only made similarly low-key sounds of pain. By the tenth, though, he could hold out for his friend no longer and screamed as the leather cut into his torn flesh. His cries were so hoarse and full of agony that Potter was shaking with rage and horror. It continued for too long. The doctor was begging. Potter had never heard a man sound so utterly broken, especially not the stubborn surgeon. When it sounded like Pierce had collapsed and the lashes ceased, his captor released the button and Potter blanched sitting at his desk, the screams still echoing in his mind.

He would never be able to forget that fearful sound.

"What have you done?"

"I simply punished the good doctor for what you have done. I don't take kindly to defiance, and I don't like your having tracked down my line. He paid for that. But don't relax yet, sir. He gets fifty lashes for disobedience. By my count, he has a few dozen to go. Get back into position."

"No!" Potter yelled. "What can I do to end this? You can have anything!"

"I have what I want. If you want to speak to him before he passes out, you'll just have to wait until he takes the hits." With that, a kick could be heard over the transceiver, followed by a pained moan.

After a moment, the cracking of the whip continued. After just one hit, Hawkeye was yelling again. Potter wasn't sure, but he thought he might hear crying too. He shook his head. Poor kid.

When the sounds of pain stopped, so did the hits. It sounded like the man was doing something to the doctor. Another moment's silence was cut through by the sounds of scuffled scrambling and choked wheezes. It continued until Pierce gasped, "S-s-sorry, w-won't…" The struggling man gagged. "...pass out… ag-gain…" It sounded like the man was strangling him, which Potter gathered was his manner of dragging him into consciousness. Pierce's breathing became audible and he choked as the man stopped strangling him. Hawkeye shifted audibly back into position, on his hands and knees despite his broken bones, baring his shredded back despite the pain it would bring.

The lashing continued and Potter wasn't sure how he or his man would come out of this in one piece.

Hawkeye ran out of breath and fell numerous times, but he could never stop screaming.

Finally, the punishment was complete. Pierce's captor lowered the device to him.

"Anything you want to tell your CO, Captain?"

Pierce didn't respond.

"Oh, come now, you don't want to talk to the Colonel? You really want to disobey again?"

"It's alright, son, go ahead," Potter urged.

Hawkeye's shuddering breath was painful to hear as he tried to form words. He could only stutter, "I-I'm sorry P-Potter… y-you didn't… didn't need t-to hear that-t."

"I think it did the old man good, to remember the severity of war. Surely now he knows that it is unwise to cross me."

"Pierce, do what you must to survive. I don't give a damn hoot if you come back with your pride or not, just make it back alive."

"You assume, sir, that he will make it out of here. I have no intention of letting him go. He is mine now."

"He is neither yours nor mine. Pierce is his own, and the strongest man I've ever had the privilege to know."

"Well, damn, I'm sorry for the men you've known, because this guy? He's in pieces. Here, I'll show you." There was shuffling and Pierce gasped softly. "Who do you belong to?"

The doctor closed his eyes. He couldn't say it with his friend, his commanding officer, listening. It would make it far too real. This wasn't supposed to be real.

He was jolted and he cried out when his broken ribs shifted beneath his captor.

The man growled threateningly, "Who. Owns. You?"

"Y-you," Pierce muttered.

"LOUDER!" The man bellowed, scaring the fragile man beneath him.

"Y-you own me, I belong to you!" He was jolted again. "YOU OWN ME!"

The man chuckled. "See? Pathetic."

"I've heard enough. Let's talk shop. What do you want in exchange for Pierce? I can get you medical supplies, a chopper, food, documents-"

"I don't need any of that, Colonel. I have what I want. I have no further need for this line, so do you have any last words for my boy?"

Potter sighed. "I'm so sorry, Hawk."

The man shrugged and switched off the radio. He pulled out the battery and tossed both from the room.

"Well, you ought to get to work. You'll feel better, getting your hands back in the injured. You do miss playing god, don't you, doc?"

Hawkeye didn't respond. The man just laughed as he dragged the pale man up to once again drag him to another room.

Hawkeye was thrown to the ground, but he didn't try to get up.

His captor sighed.

"If you ever want to take the old man's advice, you're welcome to stop being a weakling and try to survive. All of this whimpering and collapsing is just tiresome by now."


	10. Man of the Fist, Man of the Heart

He was still punished often, and force-fed alcohol, and whipped, but he did try to get along. He wanted to live. Whether or not he made it out, he would try to save the lives of the men he was forced to operate on. It was his only choice.

Soon, he was allowed more clothes and a lab coat, a surgeon's mask, and even a scalpel, if he behaved before an operation.

He conducted himself like a doctor under his own power, working silently and with clinical focus, once he was able to wrangle any fear he felt in the man's presence.

One day, he walked into the surgery room to see somone he'd thought he'd never see again.

Pierce froze. The man standing feet from the restrained and unconscious patient chuckled.

"Recognize your patient, doc?"

The man on the table was tall, almost too tall to fit on the table. He had a high hairline, a solid form, and smile lines.

BJ.

Hawkeye continued moving when the man's amusement began to run out quickly and he looked impatient. The surgeon walked to his patient, pulled up his mask, and tried to keep himself clean and steady as he sterilized his workspace, hands, and tools. Next, he assessed the patient, Yes, use distant terms, he thought, don't think about who you're about to cut into…

The patient had a bullet wound in the abdomen and some bruising about the torso, not serious. There were contusions on his knuckles and Pierce then noted the ever-so-slight gimp in his captor's movement. BJ had gotten in some good hits.

Pierce tried not to smile at that thought as he straightened and took up the sterilized scalpel. He allowed himself a moment to collect himself, then tuned out thought and went into surgeon mode.

He'd almost gotten the bullet out when his patient stirred for a few seconds, then jolted to consciousness with a cry. Pierce stood back in shock, still holding the scalpel, his hands bloody.

BJ looked around in confusion, then down at his chest, pain registering. He didn't say anything, but looked up again. He saw the man standing a few feet away near the end of the table, at whom his eyes widened slightly. His hands tightened into fists. He looked up at the white figure standing above him in a white coat and mask. He was holding a scalpel in bloody gloves.

"Hawk?" BJ croaked.

"Beej…"

"What the hell are you doing with that guy?"

Pierce looked up at the man, who raised his eyebrows expectantly. The doctor paused and decided do what would keep him and BJ out of the danger of a punishment.

"I work here now." He wasn't lying. "This place needs a surgeon… more than MASH needs me."

BJ looked annoyed and angry, as well as astonished at his gall. "So this is where you've been all this time? You went AWOL, cut out of saving lives risked at the line, to service this guy?"

Pierce hesitated. "Well, I'm here because I chose, but wy are you here?"

"No, no, this isn't about me. What are you doing here?"

"You've been shot. I need to get the bullet out, and you're wasting time. My incision is small, but the longer it's open, the more prone you are to infection. You know that. Now may I get back to work?"

"Fine."

Hawkeye continued to attempt to retrieve the bullet once the incision was complete he had the forceps in hand, but it was difficult with his patient's breathing not being as calm as if he were anaesthetized, and his twitches at the pain. He couldn't scold him, though. It wasn't his fault. None of it was.

Finally, he got the slug out and dropped it on the table. He looked at his friend's face. It was right to be pale, but there was something else there.

"Hawk… this isn't a hospital."

"Oh, really? You referring to the concrete walls and floor, lack of lighting, and absence of doctors? Ever the astute one, you are."

"You're not supposed to be here to work."

"Well, it's not ideal, but hey, you shouldn't be here, either. I need to stitch this."

BJ shook his head. "I've never seen you operate like that."

"It was just a bullet, Beej, nothing much to it."

"You're hurt."

Hawkeye furrowed his brows a bit. "No, I'm not."

"Your hands, they way they move… something's wrong, Hawk, don't lie to me. Look at how you're holding the forceps!"

Hawkeye looked down and saw how strangely he was holding them so as not to aggravate his broken fingers.

"And how you move in general, your stance… I know you're hurt, damn it, I'm a doctor too. What's going on?"

The man at the end of the table moved forward, clapping slowly and dramatically. "So clever. I see why you like him, doc. Yes, you're right, the farce doesn't quite hold up under scrutiny, does it?"

BJ looked up at his friend, who was looking down.

The patient blanched.

"What the hell is going on?"

The man laughed boisterously. "Oh, shall we show him, doc?" He walked around to stand behind the standing surgeon, who stiffened. The tool he held fell from his hand as the man's arm was suddenly around his neck. His captor held him in a suffocating chokehold as he reached around and ripped open the doctor's lab coat and shirt. BJ was shocked, well, not so surprised now that he knew his friend was hurt and in trouble, but still startled to see the damage displayed across his friend's skin. There was so much bruising that there was no patch of skin clear of black, blue, yellow, red, or even green. He was so thin that he could see which ribs were or had been broken recently.

The man ripped off the doctor's mask and BJ saw his split lip, black eye (which had been hidden by his longer hair), and the look on his face.

Fear.

"You asked him why he moved so strangely. It could be the broken fingers, ribs, and dislocated shoulder… or it could be me." He chuckled as his victim trembled and benignly grabbed for the arm strangling him, choking and gagging.

"Let him go!"

"As you wish," The man laughed as he threw Pierce at the wall, where his head cracked against it and he fell limply. BJ watched in horror. With a hand to his head, Hawkeye pulled himself up against the wall and painstakingly got back on his feet. BJ strained to see what was happening as the man strode to the thin doctor and punched him in the gut. Pierce fell back and gasped when his back hit the wall. He still had his shirt and jacket on to protect the lashes there but he felt blood trickle down his back.

"The good doctor here has become quite the model prisoner. He knows how to take his punishments. It isn't about honor, pride, or even saving lives. He's surviving. Why, he's not the man you once knew. Look at him."

BJ looked to his friend. He was hardly able to stand, but looked determined to. He was trembling terribly. Blood trickled down from his temple and side. He was sickly and pale, too thin. Now that he didn't have the clothes, act, and pressure to hide his condition, he looked like death.

"Why are you doing this?" BJ asked quietly.

The man turned to him with a scalding glare. "You are in no position to question me."

He turned to Pierce. "You're a man of the heart. Are you loyal to your friend?"

Hawkeye looked to BJ on the table, who looked far from excited to hear where this was going.

"Yes."

The man walked up to him slowly. Hawkeye shifted nervously. When the man got to him, standing close, he lifted a hand to rest it at the back of Pierce's neck, holding it lightly. It was scarier than a punch. Why would he be gentle?

Hawkeye couldn't look at him, so he just stared at his friend across the room.

The man leaned in and whispered something. BJ saw his friend's breathing hitch. Hawk's eyes flitted to those of the man whose grip had tightened slightly, holding him there.

The man raised his hand as if to strike him. Pierce fliched sharply. The man laughed and released him, walking toward the middle of the room.

"I want to know how loyal you are."

Pierce looked on in confusion.

"So, doc," The man said, turning to him, "what would you do for your friend?"

Hawkeye didn't hesitate. "Anything."

"How long has it been since you've eaten?"

Pierce looked away, thinking hard. "I don't know. Weeks."

BJ's eyes widened.

"You can have a full, hot meal, so much that you can't possibly finish in one sitting. The price is my breaking his leg."

"No." Pierce closed his eyes. "Not worth it. Not nearly."

BJ furrowed his brows. "Hawk, take the deal, you need food!"

Pierce shook his head.

"Hmm. One week, all to yourself, and I won't touch you, same cost."

"No."

"Damn it, Hawk, you have to heal!"

BJ was pleading with his friend to stop being selfless, but he knew his friend. Hawkeye Pierce may act selfish in camp, but he was the farthest thing from it.

"How about this. First, you stitch up your friend. Then I want you to take off everything you've gained since you cracked. We're going to play a little game."

Pierce nodded, head down, then went back to work. He took up the curved needle and long thread after sterilizing them, all after he doused his hands liberally in alcohol. BJ's face was pinched in pain, but the patient knew it was nothing compared to what the man standing over him - somehow still standing - must be going through. Minutes later the job was done, the line cut, and tools replaced. Pierce's eyes met those of his friend, who watched him anxiously. The doctor's eyes showed every apology he couldn't speak. He then moved back to the center of the room and mindfully removed his jacket, shirt, and pants, leaving him in his boxers. BJ had to look away from Hawkeye's marred body so as not to throw up. When he looked back, the man had moved to face the surgeon. He reached out and touched Pierce's stomach, where the bruising was an angry violet. Hawkeye gasped and moved back an inch.

"There. You may not scream very often, but you make up for it in gasps and whimpers. You sound like a wounded dog, you know."

Pierce looked down, ashamed.

"Remember when I whipped you and every time you cried out, you got five more?"

Now he shuddered and closed his eyes, nodding.

His eyes opened at the man's pause, which allowed him to connect the dots. His wide eyes only amused the man.

"It was hard for you to contain the pain like that. You're very expressive. You can lie and joke well enough, but here, I can see your fear and pain clear as day. You can't hide it. It drains you."

Hawkeye didn't respond.

The man growled impatiently, then grabbed him by the throat. "Well?"

Hawkeye's chest jolted with his panicked breathing. "I-it's hard… hurts more."

"That's what I thought." The man released him.

"So here's the game. I'll do what I like, and you remain silent. If I hear so much as an abnormal breath from you, your friend dies."

Hawkeye's horrified gaze shot to BJ, lying prone, then back to the man reveling in this emotional torture.

"Is your friend worth that?"

Hawkeye wasn't going to take any chances by speaking. He nodded.

"How fun." He grinned and drew his foot back, swinging it forward and driving his boot into the swaying doctor's gut. Pierce fell back and down, hitting the ground hard, but without a sound. His head cracked against the ground and he grimaced in pain. The next kick was also aimed at the heavily bruised area, and this one being more of a stomp, Hawkeye nearly threw up from the force, but he had nothing to expel. He couldn't even gag, due to the rules. He breathed shallowly, as silently as possible with the pain he was dealt.

Next, the man straddled and punched him. With all of the hits to his chest, jaw, and head, he needed to cough up blood before he suffocated, but it would make noise. He swallowed it, along with his pain. He had to keep it under wraps.

The man grabbed his left hand. Pierce shook his head fervently. How can I operate if my hands are broken? Please, please don't… snap. His back arched the little that it could and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He was rigid with agony coursing down his body. The man snapped another finger and the doctor was shaking. That took care of that hand. The man dropped it and grabbed the other. Pierce bucked again with the next snap, and the next. One more almost made him cry out, but he bit his lip harshly. His breathing was getting loud, and the man raised his eyebrows in silent warning. Hawkeye tried to get it under control, but the searing pain from his broken fingers was so overwhelming that he just stopped breathing for a minute, trying to cancel out the sounds taking over. In his mind he was screaming at himself. Don't scream! Damn it, don't beg! Nothing! Shh! No breathing, he'll hear! SHH!

When he remembered to breathe, he didn't gasp for air, but took it slowly. It hurt his ribs to breathe deeply, but he had to right now. Before his next deep breath, another finger was snapped, and it caught him off guard. He slammed his head back into the ground to keep himself from yelling out. It made a sickening cracking sound, but he didn't yell.

The man dragged him up by the wrist and flung him to the center of the room. Pierce remained there as the man left the room for a moment. He returned with the whip. BJ saw the terror cross his friend's face, the unbridled, unadulterated horror in his eyes, and nearly wept for him. Hawkeye was practically in position, on his hands and knees, heavily scarred back practically on display.

With a sneer and without warning, the man brought the braided leather down on his captive. Hawkeye needed to scream, but what could he do, he just jolted with the hit and bit his cheek. Each hit made it harder and harder to remain silent. The fourteenth lash actually made him choke back a scream audibly, but it was covered by his captor's laughter. By the twentieth, tears were streaming down his face. His breathing was so sporadic that hits that caught him off-guard forced the breath from his lungs every time.

BJ could take it no longer. "Stop! Please, he can't hold out much longer, just stop!"

The hits ceased and Pierce instantly crumpled to the floor. He was shaking.

The man stormed up to the restrained doctor. "You want me to kill you right now? He follows through or you die."

"HE'LL DIE! You're killing him! If you want him to survive for your sick games, you have to keep him alive, don't you? The bare necessities don't keep someone alive in these conditions! He needs food, water, rest, and time to heal, just some! If he dies right now, will you be satisfied? He's done everything you asked, he hasn't done a thing against you! What have you got to lose?"

The man yelled and threw the whip to the ground, spun around to glare at the man still shaking at his feet, then ran a hand through his hair.

BJ was careful not to set him off again, but he had to lead his actions to save Pierce. "Help him survive the night. He can work better after time to heal, and he'll be so much more useful."

Huffing in aggravated agreeance, the man stormed out. He returned with two loaves of bread, a canteen of water, a first-aid kit, and a key. He dropped all but the last item on the floor by the table, then moved to BJ and unlocked his restraints.

"You fix him up. I'll leave him alone for three days. After that, you're out, and I get back to my fun."

BJ gingerly sat up, nodding absently as he rubbed his wrists. When the door was closed and locked, he leaped off the table and ran to his friend.


	11. Recuperation

BJ knelt beside the trembling form. Pierce jerked when BJ laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Hawk, it's me, he's gone for a while. You don't have to be silent anymore."

Pierce just shook his head.

BJ sighed, knowing that his friend didn't think he was right, and if he spoke now, all would be lost.

"I promise. Look, he's gone. Did you hear when he said before he left? He's going to let you heal a bit."

Hawkeye tilted his head to look at him, hesitated, then breathed audibly. He inhaled shakily.

"B-Beej," He whispered hoarsely.

"Yeah, I'm right here," Hunnicutt assured him. Pierce's eyes closed and he shuddered.

"What is it?"

"W-why are you here? What… what did he do to you?"

"I just woke up here after being shot at in my jeep from an aid station. Came to on the table. He didn't do anything to me."

Hawkeye's piercing gaze met his and he asked again. "He didn't touch you?"

"He didn't touch me."

Pierce's eyes closed and he exhaled in relief. Then he jolted slightly and winced.

"What's wrong, Pierce?"

"M-my ribs, breathing hurts."

"Yeah, I bet. I need to patch you up before you bleed out or get an infection. Lie flat so I can stitch your back."

Pierce shifted and choked back a cry. He didn't need to do any more to worry his friend. BJ went to the table, grabbed the tools, then returned to his patient.

"This is gonna hurt, Hawk. You can yell, really, I get it. Just tell me if something's wrong. Don't get cocky."

"W-wait," Hawkeye looked back. "Why stitch them when they'll just be torn open again?"

"I'll take the stitches out before he returns, but for now they'll help. Stay still."

BJ uncapped the alcohol and held it above the shredded back. "Ready?"

Pierce pushed his forehead to the ground and ground his teeth. He nodded.

Without further hesitation, he poured the ethanol. Hawkeye growled in pain, which quickly transitioned into a scream of agony. He screamed again, but after the world-ending pain died out a bit, he just breathed brokenly.

Before he began stitching, BJ noticed that his patient's breathing was way too fast and short.

"Pierce, what's wrong?"

Hawkeye didn't respond.

BJ leaned over to look at him, and his eyes were squeezed shut tight.

"Listen, I already used the alcohol, so I have to do this now. Just calm down, control your breathing." Pierce was still hyperventilating. "Hawk, calm down." BJ reached out and held his friend's shoulder, squeezing it gently in reassurance. Pierce tried desperately to control his breathing, and it was toned down a bit. He focussed on staying as still as possible, and BJ pulled his hand away to sterilize his hands.

When he began, Pierce's breathing hitched a bit at the pinching pain, but after a moment he could lie still. BJ supposed, halfway through, that this discomfort would be no more than annoying in comparison to what he'd taken so far. When he'd wrapped up stitching the worst of the lashes, BJ placed gauze on them. He held the gauze there and said,

"Hawk, I need you to sit up so I can wrap your chest."

Hawkeye placed his palms to the ground and tried to push himself up, but he cried out and fell to the ground. BJ helped him up by holding his shoulder and pulling up. By the time he was upright, Pierce was wan and trembling. BJ meticulously wrapped his chest, which would not only protect the lashes from infection, but would also keep his ribs from shifting. Pierce cried out when his ribs were jostled and he seemed uncomfortable by the restriction the tight bindings applied to his breathing, but a small smile crossed his face when he felt how secure his ribs were.

"Thanks, Beej."

"Don't think I'm done yet. I still have to clean you up."

BJ proceeded to use some of the alcohol and water, sponging the mix with some gauze, to clear the blood from his patient. Once he was less filthy and bloody, he cleaned the slash in his head. It had bled at lot, as most head wounds do, so it wasn't nearly as bad as it had seemed. It wouldn't even require stitches or gauze - well, they wouldn't be necessary. BJ came to realize that he couldn't yet use all of the medical supplies. He couldn't know if the man would stick to his word. He picked up the remaining supplies and tucked them into the corner. When he returned to his friend, who he'd had sitting against the left wall, Pierce's eyes were closed.

"Hawk, you can't doze off. There's no way you don't have a concussion. It could kill you."

"I've passed out with a concussion more times than not by now, I'll be fine."

"I'll have none of that. Doctors make the worst patients, I know, but you really can't afford to push your health."

Pierce sighed. "I know."

BJ grabbed the canteen and gave his friend the rest of the water, waving off his offer for the last bit.

Pierce sighed once he finished. "Okay, so what do we do?"

"How about cards?"

"We don't have any cards."

"Who needs 'em?"

They chuckled, which morphed into full-out laughter when BJ pretended that he was holding a swell deck and held the invisible cards to his chest, looking around in mock suspicion. Hawkeye was holding his side and cackling along with his friend.

Suddenly, the door burst open. The man stormed in and headed straight toward them. Hawkeye's eyes widened and his breathing went into a frenzy. BJ moved between them, but he was kicked out of the way, crying out as the unforgiving boot met his gunshot wound. The man got to his prey before the more heavily wounded doctor could scurry away. Pierce yelled when a hand was laid on him. The man grabbed a handful of his hair and started dragging him to the door.

BJ pulled himself up and yelled, "No, you gave us your word! HE'LL DIE!"

The man just laughed and dragged the shaking doctor out, locking the door behind them.

BJ screamed in rage until he ran out of breath.


	12. Ultimatum

Pierce was thrown into another cell down the hall, identical to the last. The man threw him to the ground and laughed at his terrified look.

"Did you really think I was going to let you rest? That I'd leave you with a friend, for him to fix you up and make you feel better? That I would take orders from scum like you or him? WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?" The man bellowed, raising a fist. Pierce flinched heavily and whimpered.

"Pathetic."

The man lifted a bat from beside the door.

"No booze. It may be fun to have you confused and afraid, but right now, I want to see you in agony."

BJ could hear the screams for hours.

By the end, Hawkeye couldn't move. He was splayed in the middle of the room, lying in a pool of blood. So many bones had been broken that he was constantly in tears just from trying to breathe. He had new lashes and the man had taken to a knife. The bat had been his favorite thought. He always came back to it. He loved a good beating.

Hawkeye wasn't sure if he'd gone or not. It turned out he hadn't when he knelt beside him, grabbing his broken jaw and forcing his glazed eyes to focus on him.

"This is your fault. You should never have fallen for it. Now, you'll probably die here. Any last words, doc?"

Pierce just wheezed.

"Not very talkative." The man put his hands beneath him and flipped the broken man over onto his back, which earned a gargled cry. He straddled the man's shuddering chest and decisively placed a hand on his neck, ready to strangle with pressure applied. It made Pierce crazy, but he could only whimper brokenly.

"This is your last chance. I am leaving you here to die. If you do, saves me the effort of having your buddy keep you alive. If you live, maybe I'll keep you. What a fine pet you make," The man cooed as he stroked Hawkeye's obsidian hair, "all broken-in and docile like this. I should shatter you more often." With that and a smirk, he got up and left, taking the weapons - "tools" - with him.


	13. Survive the Test

Pierce was sure he was going to die.

For ages he just lay there, struggling to breathe, choking on blood that he was nearly too weak to cough up. He couldn't move at all without dry heaving, which in turn made him need to dry heave more at the pain. He had no way to measure time, so he had no idea how long he lay in the dark. His own breathing scared him because he was afraid that the noise would catch his captor's attention.

He couldn't tell the difference between his nightmares and his memories. He tried so hard not to pass out like BJ had said, but the pain was too much to handle. Consciousness was so painful. On the other hand, his dreams were just as bad as reality. It was like the man had never left.

He missed his friend dearly. He'd only seen him for a little bit, no more than an hour or so. The man had thought it to be a very clever plan, and it really had worked, but he couldn't wait long to see his terror and pain.

When the pain became overwhelming here and there, he would pray, or cry out, or beg aloud for the pain to stop. He never moved, while awake at least. That was always why he awoke; he'd moved in his sleep and woke screaming.

It could have been forever, but judging by the body's limits, it had been only a few days. When that door opened, he was in the same place, surrounded in blood, covered in it, and filthy. The man pulled in a hose as sprayed him off. Pierce never moved until kicked over, when he'd just moan.

The drain consumed the disgusting water, and finally, he was decently clean. It was easier to see all of his injuries now.

"Make sure he survives the night."

BJ was tossed into the room, the light inside turned on, and the man left. The surgeon pulled himself up and dusted himself off. When he turned around to see his friend, he cried out and ran over.

Pierce didn't even respond to him the entire night, or move of his own volition. He just flinched at every movement and drank or ate on command.

BJ was surprised he did survive the night. He shouldn't have.

The man didn't come back for days.

It was probably a week later, days after the water and bread were gone, that the man did come back. Pierce had barely spoken and still couldn't move.

The man nudged him with his book and looked him over.

"I want your bones to heal. They are _so_ fun to snap."


	14. Cutting Remarks

For a few weeks, until they were mostly healed, the man just played games with them. In many of them, he threatened to hurt BJ unless Hawkeye obeyed. Whether he had to say, do, or not do something, he always complied. Once, the man force-fed him liquor and made him punch BJ himself. He'd apologized with each weak hit.

Now, Hawkeye could stand, with some help, and use his arms. His ribs didn't shift and his cuts were now scars.

BJ was glad to see his progress physically, but mentally he was worse than ever.

The man would still hit him sometimes, and just as often fake out, and Hawkeye was terribly jumpy. He didn't talk very much, and when he did, his voice was small and hoarse. He was getting enough water and some food, usually rewards for good behavior, but sometimes he just couldn't bring himself to eat or drink. He still barely got any sleep, his nightmares being as horrifying as reality, and it wasn't helped by the man coming in to mess with them at all hours. BJ was very glad that he was there because otherwise, Hawkeye would have gone mad a long time ago.

Not that BJ himself was peachy keen, either. He got a beating when he tried to protect Pierce, and the man didn't have to be gentle with him. He also gave his friend most of their food and water, so he was also very thin. Still, the man's attention was never really directed at him. He just had no interest in anyone but Pierce. Why, he had no idea, but his single-mindedness about it was scary.

One day, when the man walked in and Pierce flinched on cue, there were no questions about his progress or games. The man strode directly to Pierce and dragged him up against the wall by his neck until he was standing. Hawkeye choked.

"I've let you heal for long enough. Time for some real fun." He threw Pierce to the ground and kicked him in the chest. The doctor grunted and rolled onto his back. The man straddled his waist and pulled out a knife.

"Oh, all of my work has healed. I think I need to start from scratch." He lightly drew the blade across the shuddering chest without breaking the skin, playing with him. Pierce tried to calm his frantic breathing so that he wouldn't force his chest up into the blade, but the man slowly applied pressure and the knife tore the skin and sliced deeper agonizingly slowly. Hawkeye watched in pain, crying out, as the blade was pulled down his chest and sliced open the skin. It was two inches long before he pulled the blade out and went to start another.

BJ couldn't hold back any longer. "Stop!"

The man ignored him and began the next incision, curving it around and smiling in mock admiration at the blood it drew. At the third cut, the longest and deepest, Hawkeye couldn't quell his scream and cried, "P-please, no m-more!"

BJ roared and charged them. The man looked up to see the tall doctor tackling him. The two rolled to the side, wrestling for control of the knife. They were yelling and fists landed on both sides. Pierce struggled to sit up and rolled onto his side, making it onto his feet in a moment. The man was on top of BJ, who was weak after all of this time a prisoner, and he was fighting BJ's resistance to punch the tip of the blade into his chest. BJ was losing the blade growing ever nearer his skin. Before he succeeded, though, Pierce shoved him off of his friend by ramming into him. The man rolled away and scrambled for the knife. Pierce tried to grab it, but the man got it first and shoved him to the ground. Before he moved to him, the man kicked BJ again, leaving him gasping. He then moved to Pierce, who was trying to pull himself away.

"Sorry, s-so sorry, didn't mean 't, 'm sorry…"

"HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME?" The man bellowed. He straddled the shaking doctor and held the knife to his abdomen, sliding it in like the flesh was butter. Pierce screamed. The man pulled it out and moved it over, doing the same there. He stabbed his victim several more times before holding the knife to his throat. Pierce was spluttering blood and wheezing.

The man leaned down as whispered into his ear, "Don't think you're getting out of this one, doc."

He was about to slit his throat, pushing in the tip just enough to draw blood, but he stopped.

"No, you don't deserve death."

The man grabbed BJ by the arm and dragged him away. "Say goodbye to you friend, doc, you'll never see him again."

"N-no," Pierce sobbed as BJ was taken and the door was locked behind them.


	15. Mind Games

The next time the man came in, he saw Pierce sitting up against a wall, keeping pressure on his wounds. He was taking care of himself since his buddy wasn't there to do it for him.

The man dragged him to the middle and force him to take a bottle of liquor, then blindfolded him, sitting him up then not touching him. Pierce flinched at each step he heard. The man was walking around him. Here and there he would reach out and touch, but it was just to poke or feel, not hurt. After a while, Pierce grew to like the touches, if only because they meant that the man wasn't still walking around him, and he wasn't exactly hurting him. The anticipation of pain was what was killing him. Once, the man didn't touch him for a long time, and Pierce moved to lift the blindfold. That was when the man pounced. He beat him while he lay blinded, which turned out to be far more terrifying than any other beating. He had no idea where the hits would come from, or where the man himself was.

The man left silently, and Pierce lay still all night, anticipating more pain. He never risked a peek.

In the morning, the man re-entered silently. He knelt by Pierce's head and ran a hand through his hair. The blindfolded man jerked and gasped, but he didn't move otherwise.

"Good," The man cooed. "I want you to be very well-behaved from now on." His lips brushed the blinded man's ear. "You're lucky to be alive. Your every breath is mine."

Pierce nodded frantically. The man stood and continued the previous day's routine. If Hawkeye ever moved as if to find out if he'd left, he was beaten. If he did anything, even miniscule, to catch the man's attention, he was beaten. Other than that, the man just… felt him. Prodded and pressed, trailed against his raw skin.

It was nerve-wracking.

When the man found him to be conditioned well enough in following cues and obeying at all times, he took off the blindfold. Pierce learned that it wasn't much different without it, now. He was always alert and ready to comply. He would be touched without warning, at his captor's will.

His mind even played tricks on him.

He heard what he thought was footsteps or breathing, but it was nothing. He felt phantom hands ghosting across his bruised skin in the dark.

Now, he was back to operating on the wounded. To earn food and water, even rest, he had to pay by taking punishments of many forms. The man was making him sorely sorry for ever acting against him, even to save his friend's life.

And it was all for nothing.

He was sure that BJ was dead.


	16. A New Arrangement and a Familiar Face

The next time the man came in, he saw Pierce sitting up against a wall, keeping pressure on his wounds. He was taking care of himself since his buddy wasn't there to do it for him.

The man dragged him to the middle and force him to take a bottle of liquor, then blindfolded him, sitting him up then not touching him. Pierce flinched at each step he heard. The man was walking around him. Here and there he would reach out and touch, but it was just to poke or feel, not hurt. After a while, Pierce grew to like the touches, if only because they meant that the man wasn't still walking around him, and he wasn't exactly hurting him. The anticipation of pain was what was killing him. Once, the man didn't touch him for a long time, and Pierce moved to lift the blindfold. That was when the man pounced. He beat him while he lay blinded, which turned out to be far more terrifying than any other beating. He had no idea where the hits would come from, or where the man himself was.

The man left silently, and Pierce lay still all night, anticipating more pain. He never risked a peek.

In the morning, the man re-entered silently. He knelt by Pierce's head and ran a hand through his hair. The blindfolded man jerked and gasped, but he didn't move otherwise.

"Good," The man cooed. "I want you to be very well-behaved from now on." His lips brushed the blinded man's ear. "You're lucky to be alive. Your every breath is mine."

Pierce nodded frantically. The man stood and continued the previous day's routine. If Hawkeye ever moved as if to find out if he'd left, he was beaten. If he did anything, even miniscule, to catch the man's attention, he was beaten. Other than that, the man just… felt him. Prodded and pressed, trailed against his raw skin.

It was nerve-wracking.

When the man found him to be conditioned well enough in following cues and obeying at all times, he took off the blindfold. Pierce learned that it wasn't much different without it, now. He was always alert and ready to comply. He would be touched without warning, at his captor's will.

His mind even played tricks on him.

He heard what he thought was footsteps or breathing, but it was nothing. He felt phantom hands ghosting across his bruised skin in the dark.

Now, he was back to operating on the wounded. To earn food and water, even rest, he had to pay by taking punishments of many forms. The man was making him sorely sorry for ever acting against him, even to save his friend's life.

And it was all for nothing.

He was sure that BJ was dead.


	17. Another Sort of Doctor

"So, what you're telling me," Potter leaned back in his chair, "is that the bastard got you too, and then used you as a hail mary when he beat Pierce to the brink of death." He took a liberal belt, hoping to be able to swallow the cursed news better with some liquor.

"Yes, Colonel. "I don't think he'll be able to survive much longer; I was only let go because the man would be too preoccupied, with punishing him for fighting back, to deal with me. We have to find him."

"Damn right. Radar!"

"I'm here, sir," The company clerk replied precisely when the call was yelled, coming in through the swaying doors carrying stacks of paper.

"What's all that, Radar?" BJ asked.

"It's everything I used to get ahold of the line that Hawkeye's captor used in the first place. I called as many stations as I could get ahold of, and made a record of everything in case we had to do it again."

"Hawk told me about your call. Listen, I don't think that should be our first move… he really took quite the punishment for that."

Potter sighed. "I know that, I was the one on the line. That man had me listen. Still, it's really all we can do. There's nothing else in our power. Perhaps we could negotiate."

BJ shook his head at that. "There's no negotiating with him, I tried. He's only interested in Pierce. He's not going to let him go that easily."

"I think it'll take more than a surgeon like you or I could sort. We need another sort of doctor."

"Sidney?"

"Exactly."


	18. Must You

"Colonel Potter, I came as soon as I got your call. I hope I'm not too late?"

"No, Sidney, it's just fine. It was mighty good of you to rush over."

"For Hawkeye Pierce? I'd travel back from the states for that man, he's a truly great man."

"Indeed. So I assume you're all caught up?"

"Yes, Radar debriefed me upon my arrival. I understand that this is highly delicate."

"The man that has Pierce is very dangerous. He's a sadistic, obsessed, manipulative man. He had BJ for a bit, and he doesn't seem to think that Pierce is going to make it much longer unless we get him out of there pronto."

"I'm ready when you are, Colonel."

Potter nodded and picked up the phone, receiving a nod from Radar, who worked the switches and dials to get the call through. After a few minutes of clicks and whirs, the line was ringing. It was picked up after a few nerve-wracking chimes.

"HE. IS. DEAD!" The man bellowed. There was the sound of a metal door opening, and Potter imagined the man entering a cell of some sort. "I SAID NO MORE CONTACT - YOU JUST KILLED HIM!" There was a scuffling sound, then Pierce gasped. Then he screamed.

"Stop! I just want to talk!"

"No more TALK, just SCREAMS! He will suffer to NO end, colonel, and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"There's no need for that! Really, just hear me out, you'll want to hear this."

The man didn't respond, but held out the phone to Pierce writhing on the ground, sobbing in agony.

Potter waited for the man to speak.

"I didn't have to do this, you know. He could have lived. I would have let him earn some trust, maybe be allowed to do a few more things. I'd feed him every day. Maybe he could even work under tolerable conditions. He'll never have a life now."

Potter handed to phone over to Sidney.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Sidney Friedman."

"I don't give a damn who you put on the phone, your man is going to die for this!"

"You're welcome to yell all you like, and threaten too, but I don't think you will kill him."

"I nearly have already. He's a hit away from death, the very picture of it."

"But you wouldn't let him die. You don't want to lose him, he's your release, your plaything. You've kept him alive this long, and even discarded another prisoner to keep him. Are you saying that you'd kill him as soon as torture him?"

There was a pause. "He doesn't deserve death. He deserves pain, I can never dish out enough pain for him. I want him to suffer."

"And so he has. Is it not enough for what he has done?"

"It will never be enough! He is PATHETIC," Pierce cried out, "ARROGANT," Pierce yelled again, "and INCOMPETENT!" Hawkeye choked on another cry.

"Incompetent. As a surgeon, right? He has made mistakes."

"MISTAKES? HE'S A KILLER! A TORTURER! HE'S TORN MEN OPEN, SEWED THEM TOGETHER, AND SENT THEM STRAIGHT INTO HELL!"

There was scuffling and whimpers before the phone was closer to Pierce. The surgeon was choking and gasping. The man must have been on him, strangling him.

"You're absolutely right. He has done all of those things, and he carries no shame for it. He is practically ruthless. He cuts into boys, sews them up, and sends them back to the front."

Pierce inhaled hoarsely and coughed, now choking after being released. The sound grew quieter as the man walked away from him.

"Damn right. He deserves every punishment I deliver."

"Yes, you deliver them. In the stead of one that he tortured. Someone dear to you, that he cut into and destroyed."

"For everything I've lost, he spends another lifetime in his hell! Death is too merciful. I will break him."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't think you can do that."

"He's not some angel, he will break! He has broken! He's a cowering, whimpering, shattered husk."

"He's not broken."

"How in the hell can you know that?"

"I know him. He's a man of the heart. He may be ruthless, cold, even vile at times, but he loves just as deeply as he hates. There's only one way to break a man like that."

"And what is that?"

"Destroy the love, everything good in his life. Force him to watch his family turn on him, to dismiss him and show utter disgust at his presence. He may be in his own hell right now, but for him to return after all of this, it wouldn't just break his body; it would shatter his mind."

"And how do you know this so well, doctor?"

"I'm a psychiatrist, and he's told me his inner thoughts. I know him better than any man."

"Well, I'm his captor, his owner, and I know him pretty well too. I know how to make him scream. I know how much pain he's in by his breathing. I can make him scramble away in panic or heel like a mutt. I can bend and break his body, carve into his flesh, and make him do my bidding. Why would I give him up to break his mind?"

"You've done all you can to destroy him. Now you have to let him destroy himself. The only pain you can't force upon him is what he can do to himself. If he had to face us, his friends, the people he abandoned and betrayed, me, the man that wants him to suffer so thoroughly, he'll go mad. This is one thing you'd never know from physically tormenting him: his greatest fear is madness."

"And you think I care more about his suffering than my joy in causing it?"

"I know that you do. Why else would you go to so much trouble to create a living hell for one man? If you just loved hurting anyone, you'd have kept Captain Hunnicutt."

"Well, I can't argue with that. Still," Pierce's breathing became more audible. He was hyperventilating, and the receiver was held near his face. "What do you think?" The man was holding the phone to Pierce's head.

Hawkeye looked up at his captor in confused fear. "W-what?"

He yelped as the man grabbed a fistful of his hair and twisted, forcing him to tilt his head back. "What do you want? To stay here, with me, or to go back to your unit?"

Hawkeye stammered. He had no idea which one would earn a worse beating. "I-I... I want to go h-home."

He grunted when the man bashed him over the head with the receiver.

"He wants it, Doc. Sounds like your theory was wrong."

"He thinks he wants it. Here, I'll make a deal with you. Let me come to you. I'll show you that he fears me, what I can do, then I'll take him back and he'll break."

"No way in hell, you just want to know my location to get him."

"Fine, take me. I can meet you somewhere, you blindfold me and bring me there. It's a win-win situation."

The man laughed. "You're very pragmatic, doc, I like your approach. Alright, I'll take you. Walk five miles to the south of the camp."

"Done. I'll see you there in a few hours. Sundown work?"

"Sundown."

"Swell."

"Looks like the good old doctor is a fan favorite. Everyone want a piece of him?"

"Oh, believe me, we all want him to suffer. Good thing you got him before we took it into our own hands. Our work would be nothing compared to your craft work."

Sidney had never felt more sick to his stomach. The other in the office were staring at him in horrified wonder as he hung up.

"Well, I think I need about a dozen showers." He intoned.

Potter shook his head. "Sidney, where in the world did you pull that bull hockey from? You sounded worse than he is."

"That was the point, Colonel." Sidney sighed. "From everything that BJ told me, that man couldn't interact with anyone but a sadist more ruthless than he is. When he sees weakness, kindness, he crushes it for sport. I had to deliver."

"You had him break his bones to make your point?"

"Hard point to sell."

"So now you're going to walk five miles, then be taken hostage, just to torture Pierce some more before bringing him home? How can you know the kook won't attack you?"

"All he cares about is destroying Hawkeye. He doesn't care about me. If I can convince him that I can ruin Pierce more thoroughly than he has, he's home free."

The Commanding Officer cocked a brow. "And how do you plan to do that?"

"By tearing him down even further."


	19. Feint

By the time Friedman arrived at the correct area, the jeep was there waiting for him. The man sat behind the wheel.

He was exactly as BJ had described. His expression was the most telling; stoical purpose, with a hint of excitement and sick enjoyment in his eyes.

There was no exchange of words. Usually, Sidney could keep up a light banter with anyone, it was his trademark. This man was different, though; he'd never seen someone and so easily decided that he was evil. The man blindfolded him once the psychiatrist was in the passenger seat.

The ride was long and bumpy, but they made it before it got too dark and cold outside. Sidney was led into the building, which was cool and had long hallways. There didn't seem to be very bright lights as nothing shone through that cloth about his eyes. Finally, they stopped walking and a heavy metal door creaked. The man removed the blindfold and Sidney blinked freely in time to see the cell door open to expose the room inside. Sidney entered, looking around at the blood smears and stains. He saw the trembling form in the center and made sure to show no hesitation in striding to it.

"Pierce." He said forwardly, without emotion.

Hawkeye shifted, grunting softly, and moved his arm from across his eyes. It took an incredible amount of self-control for Sidney not to visibly react to what he saw.

"S-Sidney? What are you-"

Sidney wasted no time. He grabbed a fistful of Pierce's hair and yanked him up into a sitting position. Hawkeye cried out but moved with the forceful pulling. He was dragged up to his feet, where he could hardly remain upright. Sidney gestured to the blindfold, which the man handed over. The psychologist wrapped the cloth around his friend's bleeding head to obscure his eyes, then was silent. No one moved. Pierce grew jittery after a minute. He felt a brush of air to his side and he twitched. Sidney silently began to move around him, forcing himself to smile every time that Pierce flinched. Finally, he laid a hand at the base of his neck from behind, not even hurting him. Hawkeye yelled and collapsed to the floor.

Sidney leaned down and grabbed his wrists. Hawkeye gasped at the pressure on his broken wrist. He was pulled up again. When he was standing and trembling, knowing he could be touched any time, Sidney gestured to the man with a nod and they silently left.

Outside the cell, Sidney made sure that they were far enough from it before speaking.

"I assume that your bringing me here means that you do plan to send him back with me."

"That's right. I know what you mean about his heart. It will shatter when he has to face them."

"Of course. If he wasn't that way, how could he have committed the sins he has?"

"Just one thing."

"Yes?"

The man moved closer and narrowed his eyes. "I don't like liars."


	20. The Final Straw

He shoved Sidney toward the cell, then again to force him in. He pushed him into Pierce, who yelled as they fell to the ground in a heap. Pierce shakily removed his blindfold to see Sidney lying beside him, getting up.

The man kicked him in the chest. Hawkeye almost spoke up, but the words caught in his throat. The last time he'd protected a friend... he couldn't face the punishment again.

Sidney was kicked again, and again, and even more. He looked up at Pierce with his knowing brown eyes, which now were just full of regret. For what? For failing to save him? Sidney had risked his life to try, and now it was Pierce's fault for every hit he took. The man would kill the psychiatrist for trying to play him.

Hawkeye couldn't face that.

"S-stop."

The man froze and turned sharply. "What did you say to me?"

Hawkeye's eyes widened a bit, but he looked at Sidney and saw the wonder in his face. It made Pierce just a little bit proud of himself.

"Stop. Don't hurt him."

The man walked over to the now hyperventilating man. Sidney frowned at how any action taken by the man had Pierce panicking. The man had conditioned him entirely to fear.

The man knelt beside Pierce and glared at him. "Remember what happened last time you tried to protect a friend?"

Pierce nodded emphatically.

"Are you going to resist again?"

He shook his head.

"Good."

He stood and returned to Sidney, who was trying to get up again.

"There's no need for violence here, we c-" Sidney's placation was cut off by his own grunt as he was kneed in the gut. He slid back down the wall and suffered a few more kicks before the man wrapped his hands around his neck, dragging him up against the wall. Sidney struggled to breathe, but the enraged tightening of the grip made it impossible. He placed his hands on the man's but didn't pry or claw at them. His feet scrambled nearly imperceptibly, but he didn't try to beg. He never looked at Pierce on the floor, but he couldn't worry about the cost to his dear friend's psyche when he spluttered a silent cry. He mouthed it, not having the breath to say, "Hawk."

Pierce couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop!"

Nothing happened.

"You'll kill him!" Hawkeye yelled, a little angry, but mostly scared.

"Good. Damn weasel thought he could take you from me."

Hawkeye inhaled sharply. The man thought he owned him - well, he did - and was going to kill his friend for trying to help him.

It pissed him off.

Hawkeye stood, with effort, and walked toward the scene. Friedman kept his head up and didn't look at him directly, but he knew that Pierce was about to do something very dangerous.

It wasn't a smack, a crack, or a thud, but the sound of Pierce's fist slamming into the man's head was loud and shocking. The man staggered to the side, letting Sidney breathe again. He gasped, as did Pierce, who realized what he did. The man hadn't fallen, and he spun around once he could wrangle his rage. Pierce's eyes widened and he fell down trying to back away quickly. The man looked like a bull that just found its bright red target.

"You little BITCH!" The man roared. He went straight for Pierce, who was still scrambling away. "If you want to fight, go ahead! Throw the first punch! We'll see how you end up."

Pierce shook his head.

"No, no, you wanted this. Stand up and fight me like a man."

The panicking man paused. He was weak beyond recognition and always was a lost cause in a fight, but if the man was inviting him to, maybe he could defend himself somehow. Especially to protect Sidney.

He got to his feet slowly and made sure not to waver on his feet. The man laughed and spread his arms. "Go ahead, doc, hit me."

Hesitation and fear froze Pierce.

"If you can knock me out, go ahead and escape. What can I do to stop you? On the other hand, if I beat you, your friend dies and you'll never be able to stand again."

"You can't possibly think that's fair! He can hardly stand, let alone fight!" Sidney yelled, brought to rage at the injustice and the fear.

The man spun on his heels and yelled back, "It's more of a chance than he deserves!"

At that moment, while the man was turned away, Pierce sprung into action. He wasn't going to let one of the bravest men he'd ever known die because he was too weak. He ran at the man, reeled back his fist, and drove it into his side, a place the man had been favoring for a while now. A direct blow to the kidney. The man staggered, and with that distraction, Pierce kicked him behind the knee. The strong man fell to the ground, holding his side and yelling in outrage. He stood quickly and spun around just as Pierce was about to punch him in the head, which resulted in his fist being driven into his stomach. Pierce panicked, trying to drive him back down, but his next punch was stopped short when the man grabbed his wrist. He used the momentum of the punch to spin the thin man around and send him crashing to the ground. The man leaped on him and began pummeling the surgeon, but Pierce wasn't cowering yet. He wriggled and twisted until the man shifted. Pierce then used both of his legs to kick him away. The man fell back and Pierce kicked him in the face. He grabbed his now broken nose, a murderous glint in his eyes now.

Pierce scrambled up and reeled back, preparing to throw another punch. This time, when the man grabbed his wrist, he snapped it. Hawkeye screamed and fell to his knees, his wrist still in the man's hold.

Sidney came up from behind the man and wrapped an arm around his neck, securing him in a chokehold. The man jerked and released Pierce to try to remove the strangling hold on his neck. Hawkeye pulled himself back up. Sidney saw the desperation in his eyes, a raw need to survive. In a split second, Pierce brought up his knee, which smashed into the man's nose. Then the man fell limp in the psychiatrist's arms.

"What did you do?" Sidney asked, unsure if it was a trick.

Pierce reeled back, looking like he could fall over any moment. He started toward the man, then turned around and grabbed fistfuls of his own hair. He spun back around and left his hands fall from his head, staring wide-eyed at the man. He started back over to them, kneeling beside the large man.

"Is he..." Friedman started.

Hawkeye pulled his friend's arm from the man's neck wuickly and pulled the man to the ground. He felt for a pulse, breath, and heartbeat. His eyes widened and he sat back.

"He's... I killed him."

Sidney sat back.

"I drove the bones in his nose back into his brain and I killed him. No breath, no pulse, heart's stopped... th-there's nothing..."

"Hawk, you were fighting for our lives, there's nothing else you could've done."

"But I just killed a man. I don't care what he did, who he hurt... I killed him." Pierce looked horrified.

"Pierce, look at me."

He did, eyes wide.

"You do care what he did. He hurt you. It's okay to be glad that it's over. It's not your fault, he left you no choice."

"I could have-"

"Nothing you could have done would have changed this. Either he died, or we did. That was always how this would end. You know that."

Pierce sat back and nodded, running his uninjured hand through his hair. "I know. I know." He breathed shakily. Suddenly, he looked around, behind him, and at the door.

"What's wrong?"

"H-he'll kill me for this, he'll take you away and he'll hurt me..."

Sidney frowned. "Pierce, look at him. Do you see him?"

The surgeon closed his eyes. "I can't look at... what I've done."

"Look."

Pierce reluctantly opened his eyes and looked down.

"You fought for your life, and the man died. It's over now. He's gone."

Hawkeye was crying now. "I know. I know he's gone, but I feel like he's going to hurt me for it, like he'll punish me... he always does."

"Did."

Pierce pulled himself away from the body. Sidney went to him and just held him while the broken man trembled, wracked with sobs.


End file.
